The Bomb Before the Dawn
by latbfan
Summary: A further look at the days (and nights) and decisions that led to Godric standing on the rooftop in Dallas.
1. Prelude to the Storm

_A/N: It's a visit from the Ghost of Fanfic Past! This is a story I wrote a couple years ago that I just found on a flash drive (when I was looking for something else that I haven't been able to locate yet). It combines some elements of SVM with S2 of True Blood, as well as my own ideas (including that Eric and Bill have a long and complicated past). Told from Godric's point of view, it focuses on the events leading up to his handing himself over, the night of the nest bombing, and his meeting the dawn._

_**Prelude to the Storm**  
_

The soft buzz of the door rouses me from my musings, and I glance at the monitors that show various angles of the different entrances to my safe room. Isabel stands motionlessly outside my bedroom door at the nest, and I sigh, knowing there is no escaping her forever.

I listen to the gentle hiss as the door shuts behind me, leading me to a small chamber and the second security door, and then the third. Each door requires its own identification – a thirty digit pin, a retinal scan, and finally, a drop of my blood. I slowly walk through the underground tunnel towards the nest. I have other secret entrances concealed throughout the city that lead to my tunnel, all protected against intruders and accidental adventurers. Once I'm sealed inside my tomb, it's impenetrable.

I come up through a hidden trap door in the closet and lock it before opening the door for Isabel.

"Sheriff," she says, bowing low before me. "My apologies for disturbing you."

"Isabel," I gently chide. "You never disturb me. Please, welcome." I open the door wider and gesture to a chair before the large hearth. I flip a switch on the wall, and the fire roars to life. Another switch, and the light-tight shutters silently glide from the windows that cover two of the walls, a panoramic view of our lushly landscaped suburban yard visible in the moonlight. "How can I be of service?" I ask.

"Godric," she says, and her voice is quiet with concern. "You haven't come out of your room for nights. You haven't fed."

There are but a handful of creatures I've known in over 2,000 years whose company I enjoy, and Isabel is one of them. Like most hunters in the animal kingdom, the females of our species are far more deadly than the males. Very few vampiresses are able to live with other females for any length of time, and even fewer survive for centuries the way Isabel has. There's a soulful quietness to Isabel that I've always found pleasant, although in the hundreds of years since I met her, Isabel and I have never been physically intimate, which is why I'm comfortable wearing nothing but simple Egyptian cotton pants in her presence. It's a mutual respect that has kept us companions, not passion.

"I apologize for worrying you," I say as I sit in the chair next to her.

"May I bring someone for you? There are several available donors in the nest."

"No, thank you."

"Someone in particular you'd like me to send for?" she presses.

"I'm not hungry." She sighs, and I sense her unease, but I know she will not force the issue, a quality I appreciate. "What requires my attention this evening?" I ask.

"Britney is missing," she begins. "I suspect Stan is responsible. He denies it, of course, but…" she shrugs her shoulders. "This is his third incident this year. If he keeps it up, or we can't hide it…"

I nod. "I had hoped that, once I promoted him, his more secure position would temper his aggression." I sigh. "I was woefully mistaken."

"It's not your fault," she quickly adds.

"I am his Sheriff, and he is my responsibility. His kills are my kills."

"Godric," she begins.

"I'll speak to him," I interrupt. "See if you can discover where he hid the body, or what's left of it. Knowing Stan, he covered his tracks well, but I would like to offer her family the opportunity for a proper burial."

Isabel nods. "He's plotting something."

"What?" I ask.

"I don't know, but I sense something." Isabel's an empath, and I rely on her ability to accurately read the intentions and feelings of others. I've often suspected that her gift is what has kept her so compassionate despite her age. Like all talents, it's a double-edged sword, and she's worked hard over the centuries to block out signals. She once told me she doesn't hear humans at all unless she wants to, and as she said, why would she ever want to.

I sigh. "I'll speak to him," I repeat.

"Emanuel called," Isabel continues. "The Feds hired mercenaries, and the tunnel under the Rio Grande has been discovered."

"Vampires?" I ask.

"Weres."

I wearily rub my eyes. "That's rather surprising – the weres joining with the humans against us. I know we aren't their favorite species, but still…"

Isabel shakes her head. "I told Emanuel to make peace, but they've been warring in his Area for decades. Our intelligence claims only the El Paso pack is involved. I don't think we need to worry about all weres. At least not yet."

"They'll be forced to announce soon," I sigh. "At some point, we'll have to form more official and lasting alliances. But for the moment, we need to think of another way to get people across the border. Maybe we can buy off the pack, at least until another safe passage can be arranged…"

"Maybe we could appeal to the President again."

I shake my head. "He ended the last meeting decidedly. The United States will offer sanctuary to all who go through official channels. Unfortunately, that does not help our persecuted South American brothers. If they make an official request, their governments will hunt them down. Mexico is the leading trader in V worldwide, and Venezuela isn't far behind. We have to find a way to safely get our brothers and sisters out of hiding."

"Emanuel wants you to call him immediately."

"Of course he does," I say. "He always does…" She doesn't speak, but the silence between us is comfortable. I stare into the fire for several minutes before continuing. "Please tell Emanuel that I will call before dawn, and call Nan Flanagan and make sure the AVL understands the situation before she flies over here in a twist. I don't want to see that woman again anytime soon. Is that all?"

Isabel nods. "Just the usual bookkeeping: new donors to interview, some new properties to consider purchasing, some guests passing through the Area." She waves dismissively with her delicate hand. "Our lawyer called. Apparently, the Neighborhood is filing another lawsuit to force us to move, but there's nothing I can't handle."

"Thank you, Isabel," I smile at her. "I'll speak with Stan tomorrow."

"Sheriff…"

"Please make those calls, Isabel," I interrupt, dismissing her. She stands and bows again before silently leaving, and I hear the door automatically lock when she closes it.

I stare into the flames and instead of solving problems, I allow my mind to wander to the same selfish place it's been circling for the past year: Eric. My father, my brother, my son. My Child. I need him. I smile at my own absurdity. I can see him tonight, if I want. I don't need to Call him to me; I can pick up my cell phone. I can drive to his Area in a matter of hours. I know if I were to ask, he wouldn't deny me anything that was his to give. I smile, thinking that he'd find a way to give me what wasn't his too. But I don't move to fulfill my heart's desire. I sit, and I stare, and I feel the weight of 2,000 years pressing down on my shoulders.

I want to resign. I want to leave this place and go home. _Home_. I'd been captured as a slave and taken to Rome when I was a child, before my turning. Eric's arms are my only home. I think back to the last time we stayed on his island off the coast of Iceland, accessible only to those who can fly, the rocks off shore too treacherous for a boat, the gusts too unpredictable for a helicopter. I want Eric in my arms in the hot-spring, the hot water bubbling up from the earth to collect in a natural rock pool not far from the house. I want to watch the snow flakes catch on his eyelashes while he frolics and plays like a child in the drifts. My Child. He's the only thing in this long life I've ever done right, the only action I don't now regret.

I've lived too long.

Weary of the tedium of my own thoughts, I click on the television. A news story is being covered with live shots from a helicopter hovering over a highway, one of those large green signs bent and lying on the side of the road. "The Reverend Newlin, along with his wife and their 18-month old daughter, Bethany, were all pronounced dead on arrival at Baylor Medical…" The screen flashed to a photograph, and the older man with his child-bride and baby smiled at the camera.

"Damnit!" I mutter as I turn off the television. I throw on a shirt and open the sound-proofed door. "Stan," I quietly say, knowing he'll be able to hear me. "I need to speak with you."

"Sheriff," Stan says in his condescending way. He doesn't remove his ridiculous black cowboy hat when he bows, and I briefly consider taking it off his head myself. Maybe some of his hair along with it… But it's not worth it. It's never worth it.

"Stan," I say, blocking the doorway as he towers over me. "It seems you have another problem I must deal with."


	2. Smoldering Remains

**Smoldering Remains**

"Godric?" Eric softly says. I shake my head to clear it of the two thousand years of memories that have been playing like a movie in my mind. Humans have often spoken of their life flashing before their eyes, but this is the first time I've experienced the sensation. Eric and I are the only two left in the nest. Everyone else is on their way to the hotel, and I should be too, but I can't seem to bring myself to leave the ruins of what was once my living room.

For nearly 2,000 years, I prowled the fringes of battlefields, following various armies around the globe as they senselessly slaughtered each other. The newly dead and dying were laid out before me like a never-ending buffet. Sometimes I envisioned myself as a merciful Angel of Death, painlessly ending the suffering of someone beyond help. Other times, I ignored the pleas and the cries for wives and mothers and God, and I simply satisfied my own hunger and moved on. I'd long ago lost count of the bodies I'd seen, sometimes in pieces, rotting on the earth as blood stained the soil red. This destroyed house, one small bomb, and a handful of dead is but a drop in the ocean of carnage, but this night is more than I want to endure. The stench of charred flesh and gelatinous remains of dead vampires mixes uneasily with fresh human blood and the chemicals that caused the explosion. The structure is unsound; I can hear the rubble as it continues to settle, and the walls may not remain standing until dawn.

"Godric?" Eric repeats. "We need to leave this place."

I nod. "I know."

"Let's get a change of clothes. You can stay with me."

I allow my Child to lead me to my room, but I don't want any of the garments in my closet that reek of the bombing. Instead, I unlock the trapdoor hidden in the floor, inviting Eric down into my tunnel.

"You should reconsider your overhead-clearance," he teases. He's forced to walk hunched over as we move silently towards my safe-room.

"I didn't build it with a Nordic god in mind," I say.

He chuckles quietly. "Yes, well, height does have certain disadvantages sometimes. But honestly, would you want me any other way?"

"There have been times I've considered shrinking your enormous head," I retort. Eric's laughter echoes loudly in the tunnel as we arrive at the first of the security doors. He politely turns his back as I move to punch in the code. "Eric, please," I say. "As if I would keep anything from you."

He shrugs, still turned away from me. "We all have our secrets." I swiftly open the doors, and Eric stands and politely evaluates my safe-room. "Mine is similar," he finally says. "Although I don't have provisions for humans." He nods towards the open door that leads to a small room with a toilet and stash of food and water. "It's a good idea. Did you have a particular human in mind?"

I shake my head. "I just like to be prepared." I open the armoire and pull out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. "These are your size," I say as I hand them to him. I nod towards the shower. "You can go first."

He smiles at me. "You are prepared."

I don't comment on his smug, satisfied grin. Instead, I settle into my favorite chair and watch as Eric unselfconsciously strips off his tattered clothes and steps under the shower spray. Even after 1,000 years, I never tire of looking at him. He is perfection itself, as if one of the gods decided to come to earth and play human. In my long life, I've tried just about everything the mind could possibly imagine, but my time with Eric stands magnificently alone in terms of joy and pleasure.

"I see Fangtasia shirts quite frequently," I conversationally say, knowing he can hear me over the sound of the water. "You must be doing well if people from Dallas are driving over."

Eric shrugs as he lathers his body, and I'm briefly envious of the bar of soap. "I do alright."

I chuckle. "I find it amusing that you've owned a bar, in some form or fashion, for nearly 1,000 years. I never understood the appeal."

"Never the same night twice," he says, soaping his hair. "I never know what will walk through the door. Plus, I get free t-shirts from the distributors." I know he's only partially-joking. The fact that he's still amused by free shirts is what I love most about Eric – his playful delight that time has not eroded.

He turns off the water and stands before me, toweling his hair and his body. "And Pamela?" I ask. "Is she still with you, or have you driven her off again."

Eric smiles indulgently. "She's getting to the end of her rope, for sure. But she's handy to have around." He shrugs. "I'm hoping to convince her to stay a while longer, but I would never hold her against her will."

"It's nice when a Maker can enjoy his Child."

"I more than enjoy Pam," Eric says as he pulls the t-shirt over his head, shaking his hair and sending droplets of water around the room. "I couldn't ask for a better Child."

"I know that," I say. It's my turn to strip down and shower, and I watch through the water as Eric picks up my iPod and browses my music, occasionally nodding his head in agreement or snorting his displeasure at one of my choices.

"Why didn't you come with me when I came for you?" he repeats, his eyes riveted to the tiny screen. He'd asked me that same question earlier, before the bomb. I stuck my head under the spray and didn't answer. "Godric?" he asks, looking in my direction. "Why didn't you come with me at the church?"

I turn off the shower and towel myself, keeping my back to him.

"Godric?" he says again.

"Why do you keep asking?" I finally say.

"Because you've never not answered me when I've asked a question."

I sigh. "Why did you risk your people for me? Why did you risk yourself?" I slipped on a pair of pants and a shirt, missing the days when I wore next to nothing. I turn to face my Child at last. "Why didn't you leave well enough alone?"

"I would never leave you," he quietly says.

I nod. "Let's go."

I open the door and allow Eric to exit before me. Instead of resetting the security system, my fingers hesitate over the keypad. I take a deep breath, enjoying the clean smell of soap mingling with Eric's natural musky scent, and I punch in the special series of numbers that will reset the doors as soon as they shut. The next pin, the next retinal scan, and the next drop of blood will be keys to unlock the doors. When Isabel takes over as Sheriff, this will be hers. I'll have to tell her how to access it, and I'll have to apologize for leaving it a mess, but as the third door hisses behind me, and Eric and I move back through the tunnel to one of the other exits, I know I'll never again walk this path.

Isabel will be a good Sheriff. She'll rule with compassion and intelligence. She'll be just. She's old enough to successfully fight off adversaries if necessary, and she's wise enough to know the key to fighting is only do it when she knows she can win. Having new responsibilities will help ease the pain of Hugo's betrayal, too. As an empath, she could've known at any time that he was deceiving her, but I can't blame her for not wanting to know. We all need our delusions.

"This way," I say to Eric, and we silently exit through a trap door in the basement of Cathedral Guadalupe in downtown Dallas. Eric and I take to the air, flying the short distance to the hotel. Armed guards are standing by the front doors, along with media vans and cameras.

"Back door," Eric murmurs, and we flash around to the back, too fast for the humans to see.

Isabel is waiting for me in the lobby. "Sheriff," she says, bowing. "Everyone is accounted for and checked in. We have guards in place until dawn, when the Dallas pack will take over."

I smile and nod. "Very good, Isabel. Thank you."

"The American Vampire League has been notified," she says. Someone who didn't know her wouldn't be able to detect the disdain in her voice, but I know her well. As far as I'm aware, no one likes Nan Flanagan, a reputation she seems to enjoy. "They said representatives will be here tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow?" Eric says. "I thought the bitch was in Japan?"

"She's flying as soon as the live interview with the Newlins is complete," Isabel says. "She'll be here tomorrow night."

"Unless we're lucky and the plane crashes," Eric mutters.

"Eric," I warn. "There was no way around that," I assure Isabel. "Call me as soon as you rise tomorrow."

Eric and I ride the elevator to his floor, and we step off and walk down the hallway. He stops outside his door and leans towards the room across the hall, straining to hear through the hotel's soundproofing.

"What are you doing?" I ask. I listen carefully too, and it's obviously the sound of two people enjoying each other's bodies. "Eric?"

"What?" he says, jumping and looking uncharacteristically guilty. He unlocks the door and invites me in.

"What were you doing?" I repeat once we're seated in the lavish sitting area of the suite.

"He's fucking her," he growls as he leans closer to the door, staring intently at the wood, as if he could see through it. "Not that I blame him, of course. I'd do the same. I'm sure she'll feed from him tonight as well. It's not like he can completely over-power my blood, but I expect him to try."

I sigh. Sookie Stackhouse. The woman he'd sent to find me. The woman he'd deceived into drinking his blood after the attack.

"She belongs to another," I quietly remind him.

"When has that ever stopped me?" he shrugs.

"Eric," I chide. "You're a thousand years old, and there are times you have the self-control of a newborn." He grins his lop-sided grin, and it feels like my heart will burst. "It's one of the most ancient and sacred of our laws."

"Do you remember Demetrius' Cassandra?" he asks. "Oh! Was he furious when she came to me!"

"How could I forget? We had to leave rather abruptly after that, and I really enjoyed that nest." Eric laughs. "I believe he truly loved her," I quietly add.

Eric shrugs. "Yes, but it was too easy. I didn't even have to glamour her. In the end, I really think I did him a favor. One shouldn't bond with a human so fickle." He shakes his head at the memory. "I haven't spoken to him since. It's been what? Four hundred years? Four hundred and fifty? I should ask Bill if he has Demetrius' phone number."

"He's dead," I say. Eric looks at me, the shock of my statement settling into his eyes.

"Dead?"

I nod. "He was in India." Eric will know hundreds were hunted down and killed in the nights following the announcement, and even more humans, mistaken for vampires, were killed, the night skies ablaze with the bonfires. "Why would you think Bill would have his contact information?"

Eric shrugs. "Bill knows how to reach just about everyone. He's… really organized…" Eric's voice trails off, and he stares blankly at the door.

Suddenly, I realized who he meant. "Bill?" I say. He looks at me. "The vampire here, the one I met tonight? The one whose Maker I expelled? He's your Bill?"

"He's never been my Bill," Eric responds too quickly.

"Fine," I agree. "But the Bill you've spoken about? That's that Bill?" I indicate the room across the hall. Eric nods. "Sookie Stackhouse belongs to your Bill?"

"Damnit, Godric," Eric says, standing. "He is not mine."

"Oh Eric…" I sigh, my heart pitying his fate. "So the woman you tricked into bonding with you belongs to the vampire who's refused you?" He looks away and reluctantly nods. "Eric, you must leave her alone."

"Why?" he demands, his eyes bright in his pale face. "Why must I?"

"You've never manipulated someone into bonding before. Yet you do it for this woman who's connected to a man you admire." I shake my head. "Don't you see? How can you be sure it's the human you want, and not the vampire?"

Eric sits down and holds his head in his hands. "I won't pretend that I don't care for Bill," he begins. "But he started it. He made his choice."

"Eric, that's so childish."

"I've never even tasted her... She smells… incredible, but I've never…"

"Eric," I begin."

"The first time I saw her," Eric quietly interrupts, his voice no more than a whisper. "It was like my heart started beating again. Do you know what I mean? She makes me feel so alive…"

I remember when I saw Eric for the first time. I was a safe distance from a battle, and I held my breath when I saw him, swinging his sword so fluidly he was the living incarnation of movement itself. He danced; his strength somehow endless as he cut through the enemy. Even those he was fighting stopped to stare in wonder at him, and the last thing they saw on this earth was my beautiful Child slaying them with breath-taking ease.

I stalked him and his men for weeks. I watched him fight and laugh with his brothers in arms and bed women. His incredible zest for life was so dazzling that it hurt to witness, but I couldn't bring myself to look away. It was like seeing the sun again, and I slept in fear that he'd be killed while I was helpless to prevent it. I needed him, and yet I couldn't kill him. It was the incredible paradox of the turning – to live forever, one had to die.

"Yes," I whisper. "I know what that's like."

"She's…" Eric sighs and helplessly waves his hands. "She's unlike anyone I've ever known. I want her, Godric. I need her. I can't explain why; I just do."

I nod. "What of Bill? Don't you think he might feel the same way?"

Eric smiles sadly. "Do you believe me when I say that I respect him so much and want her so badly that I would be willing to share with him?"

I laugh. "You? Share? No, I don't believe it."

Eric shakes his head. "It's hard for me to believe myself. But I would. He reminds me of you…"

"Of me?" Eric nods. "Then I pity the poor fool."

"He's so unlike me," Eric says. "I love this life, and if I had to do it over, I would choose it a thousand times again. But not Bill…" We sit in comfortable silence, my heart sighing in relief. I've always known that Eric loved being vampire, but I'm glad he spoke the words aloud this night.

"He was turned against his will," Eric continues. "Lorena, the vampire you expelled, she didn't give him the choice. If she had, he would've refused her. And yet he tries so hard to do the right thing." I don't speak. "Of course, he often doesn't, or can't, but he tries. I love him for trying…" A look of pain momentarily crosses his face, and he closes his eyes and rubs his temples.

"Eric?" I ask.

"She's feeding from him," he says in a detached voice. "And she feels… assuaged. He must've told her it might lessen her bond with me."

"And Bill?"

"Love," Eric whispers. "All he feels is love. Hopeful and desperate and overwhelming love."

We sit silently and listen to the muffled sounds across the hall of Sookie crying out in pleasure and Bill's roar of release. "He'll not turn her, he says," Eric finally says when they became quiet. "He's had enough of my blood, not a lot but enough, that I know he's telling the truth. He would risk himself that way… Loving her, giving himself to her, when he knows it cannot last, not thinking about the inevitability of her death and what it will mean for him. He does that every night. For her…"

"And you?"

Eric smiles. "I want it all. I've always wanted it all."

"Which is why you deceived this woman, who's been so loyal to our kind, into bonding with you?" I quietly ask.

"It is done," he hisses, angrily rising and pacing the room. "I cannot undo it."

"She belongs to your friend," I gently remind him. "You and I both know how seldom a true friend comes along, even when immortality stretches out before us: a handful in a very long lifetime, at best. And you would throw that away for this human girl?"

"It's done," he angrily repeats. "And would you have not done the same? Would you not have risked everything to feel alive again?"

I stare into his eyes that are the color of a stormy sea, and I know that I would. I'm so grateful that I hadn't called Eric this past year in a moment of weakness. I remember all the times I'd dialed the first six numbers, only to hang up. I will not impede his life with my burdens and my weaknesses. Not my Child, this god who stands before me, the one I stole from Death itself.

I finally nod. "Yes," I say. "I would do anything for the one who made my heart wish it could beat…" Eric flops onto the bed and stares up at the ceiling.

"I wanted my blood in her…" he finally says. "I just want a clue as to what she's feeling. Just a little glimpse into her world."

"Eric," I begin.

"If she's ever taken, I'll be able to track her better than Bill could," he interrupts. "It wasn't entirely selfish."

"Does she have feelings for you?" I gently ask.

Eric snorts and shakes his head. "She definitely feels something. I'm fairly certain she oscillates between barely tolerating my presence and down-right loathing me. I once suggested that I might grow on her, in time, and she actually said she'd prefer cancer."

I laugh. "I think I like her already. Yet she didn't hesitate to save you tonight," I point out. "She left the arms of her lover to free you from silver chains in the church."

"That's one of the many things I don't understand about her. So many things…" Eric shrugs. "For all I know, she would've freed the Devil if he were suffering."

"And are you likening yourself to a devil?" I ask.

"Maybe," he says. "Sometimes."

"You sent for Bill's Maker, didn't you?" I quietly ask. Eric doesn't answer, his silence answering the nagging question that'd been in the back of my mind all night. "I wondered why she was here, since it was quite obvious she simply wanted him, yet this is not his home. You're the reason she knew where to find him."

"Do you want to order room service before dawn?" he asks.

"No," I say. "And don't change the subject: you sent for her."

"So what if I did?"

"I taught you better than that," I say.

"You taught me to survive," he responds, sitting up and glaring at me. "And that's what I'm doing: I'm surviving. And if Bill were honest, he'd admit that I'm better able to help her survive too."

"What do you mean?"

"She's a telepath," he says. "I don't know how Bill found her, but he's hiding something, and he won't tell me. But I'll tell you what I do know: once it gets out what she can do, they're going to come for her. Name me one King or Queen who won't try to possess her for themselves. Hell, most Sheriffs will come running. There's no way to keep it quiet indefinitely, and she'll be hunted down like a dog. Her only chance, and it's certainly not a guarantee, is to bond with someone who can protect her."

"You don't think he can adequately protect her?"

Eric snorts and lies back down. "He's not even two hundred years old. He has no nest." Eric shakes his head. "He'd die trying, but what purpose would that serve if he's dead and she's taken against her will? Sentenced to live a long, unhappy life as a slave, forced probably into having children in hopes of creating another telepath, only to be turned on her deathbed in case the ability carries over? What if she comes to hear vampire-thoughts? They'll not hesitate before killing her. Tell me that wouldn't happen."

"So, just to clarify," I say. "You'll take her first, to prevent someone else with less noble intentions from taking her?"

"Damnit," Eric growls at me as he stares up at the ceiling. "You make me sound like such an asshole."

I smile and clear my throat. "Yes… Well…"

"Don't," he warns, although I can hear the teasing in his voice. "Don't start with me."

"No," I concede. "Not tonight." I feel the approaching dawn in my limbs, and I stand by the windows, looking over the city I've ruled for the past several decades. "You're in quite the predicament," I finally say.

"I know," he sighs.

"But you'll find a way to make it right," I tell him.

"I will?" Eric's voice is uncharacteristically uncertain.

"Yes. You will." I flip the switch on the wall, and the light-tight shutters clatter down over the windows. In the dark, I hear Eric shed his clothes and settle under the covers.

"Godric?" he says, his voice suddenly sounding very small. "Rest with me today?"

"Of course," I say, stripping off my clothes and coming to bed. I crawl under the sheets and snuggle into his broad, muscular chest. It's like coming home after a long, long journey, and I can't help but think of all the days we've spent in each other's arms, sometimes as lovers, sometimes as brothers, and sometimes as Maker and Child. "Thank you," I finally whisper.

"For what?" he whispers back.

"For coming for me."

Eric pulls his arms tightly around me and kisses the top of my head. "I would do anything for you," he vows.

I pull his hand to my lips and carefully kiss each of his long fingers. "I know that."

"Would you hold it against me if I accidentally slipped into her dreams?"

"Eric," I warn.

"Just checking," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "But I might do it anyway."

I sigh and shake my head, loving his playfulness, his sense of fun. It's a rare quality in a human adult, let alone an immortal who's lived 1,000 years. "Of course you will… You're Eric…"

"Would you have me any other way?" he asks for the second time tonight.

"I wouldn't change a thing," I whisper. "Not a single thing."

I'm still holding his hand when his body suddenly goes limp. I fight the urge to sleep, not wanting to miss a second of what I instinctively know is my last day. Although I hadn't planned for my life to end this way, and I know I don't deserve it, I can't think of a more perfect way to spend it. Maybe there will be a god waiting for me, but if there isn't, if I die and am merely dead, I will have this day, these arms wrapped around me, and the love of this Child. I hold Eric's hands to my lips, grateful for this final gift he's unknowingly giving me.


	3. Brand New Day

_A/N: I used the dialogue from the episode for recreation purposed only. No copyright infringement intended. I also relied on Google translator because I don't speak Swedish. I do hope I didn't inadvertently write something really offensive. _

**Brand New Day**

Eric stirs shortly before the sun has set, and when he realizes I'm still curled into his chest, he rumbles his appreciation and pulls me tighter. "I haven't woken up like this in a long time," he murmurs into my hair. "I thought you'd rise before me."

"I've been awake," I say. "But I was comfortable."

"Hmmm," he hums into my neck as his arms wrap around my chest, his fingers gently pinching my nipples. "I'm comfortable too." He nuzzles his nose along my neck, teases my ear with flicks of his tongue, and presses himself into my back.

"Eric," I sigh, reaching behind me to caress his hip. I know his body better than my own, having spent far more time admiring and touching him than myself. Even with my eyes closed, I can visualize every minute detail, from the scars on his thigh and his side, nicks from fighting during his human life, to the way his abdominal muscles form an arrow, pointing straight down to the most impressive part of Eric's physique.

I hear his fangs click into place, and he quietly groans as he sinks them into his palm. I can feel him behind me, smearing himself with his blood to make it slick. His hand comes around the front, and I lick what's left of his blood from his hand. He moans as his blood enters me, and his hand drifts down across my chest and lower, and as he strokes me, he eases into me from behind with well-practiced skill. His hand wraps around my length as he thrusts, gently grasping and squeezing me when he bites. It's not the frantic coupling of desperation or need or fear; his movements are almost reverent, the act sacred.

After, he leans over me and demands, "Look at me," as he licks my blood from his fingers. I pull him into my arms, holding him tightly against me.

"Eric," I say as I kiss his forehead. He smiles at me, and we're still trembling in each other's arms when there's a knock on the door.

"Godric? It's Isabel."

Eric growls, and I lean over to kiss his shoulder. "There's much to do tonight," I whisper.

"I know."

I slip into my pants and open the door. Isabel enters and suddenly stops when she sees Eric still naked and sprawled in bed. He's carefully arranged himself so his best assets are clearly visible, and I shake my head and chuckle at his vanity.

"Am I disturbing you?" she asks, tearing her eyes away from Eric's beautiful ass.

"No," I say at the same time Eric says, "Yes."

I smile. "No," I repeat. I flip the switch so the shutters retract from the windows.

"She's here already," Isabel says. From her grim expression, I know she can only be speaking about Nan Flanagan.

"She contacted you instead of me?"

Isabel nods. "And she's going room to room, questioning everyone. She's glamouring the humans when she's done. She says she wants to speak with you last."

"She's gathering ammunition," Eric mutters.

"You saved us all," Isabel says. "If it weren't for you, in the church, Stan…"

"Isabel," I interrupt. "Eric. Both of you. It's fine. I knew this was coming."

"They'll use this as an excuse to take you out," Eric says.

"Let's meet across the hall," I say to Isabel. "In Mr. Compton's room. Will you please ask him if that is acceptable?"

"Of course it is," Eric says.

"Isabel," I say. "Please ask. If it's acceptable, let Ms. Flanagan know where to find us, and we'll convene in about ten minutes."

"Godric," she says, her eyes rimming with blood tears. "This is my fault, not yours. I should've controlled Stan. My human was the traitor. I didn't find you…" Eric stands up and snorts, pulling on black slacks and a long-sleeved black shirt.

"Isabel," I quietly say as I put my hand on her arm. "I know you're upset about Hugo, but I don't blame you, and you shouldn't blame yourself." She sniffles and nods. "Please go and speak to Mr. Compton."

"Yes, Sheriff." After the door quietly closes, I can hear her muffled knock on the door across the hall.

"You're not taking the fall for this," Eric says, standing before me.

"Eric, please."

"I won't let you."

I smile at him and slip my shirt over my head. "Let's wait and see what she has to say."

"She never says anything good," Eric replies. I watch as he puts a worn chain around his neck. I recognize the Thor's Hammer I gave him so many centuries ago, the first gift I ever gave him.

"Feeling nostalgic?" I ask.

"No," he lies. He walks into the bathroom, and when the water is running, I slip the hotel stationary under the few things in his overnight bag. I'd held the pen in my hand for over an hour, trying to think of words that could contain the love I feel for him, but language had eluded me, and in the end, all I can offer him is the phone number for my human business manager, the account numbers for half of my vast holdings in several different countries, and the security codes for the houses in London, Japan, the Tuscan villa, and the mountain retreat in Peru.

"Are you ready?" I ask when he comes out.

"Godric, listen to me," Eric says. He stands before me, taking my hands into his own. Any other person would've been too close, but with Eric, he could never be close enough. "We'll fight this."

"Eric," I say. "Please. You've done enough."

"Godric…"

"Stop," I interrupt. "I can handle it."

Eric steps away and looks hurt. "I wasn't implying that you couldn't."

"Come." I open the door and step across the hall, knocking on Bill and Sookie's door.

Bill answers, looking grim. "Sheriff," he nods to me as he opens the door to allow us in. He only glares at Eric, who smirks back. Isabel and Sookie are already seated across from each other. I take the place next to Isabel, and Eric moves to sit on the sofa with Sookie. Bill growls at him, which only makes Eric chuckle as he flops nonchalantly onto the hassock, leaving the sofa for Bill.

"Everyone is taken care of?" I ask Isabel.

She nods. "Yes, Sheriff. And I've already spoken with our insurance company and the contractor. We have meetings with them just after dark tomorrow. We need to decide if we want to rebuild the nest or purchase something new."

"The Neighborhood Association will use this to try and kick us out again," I say. "You have to decide whether or not you want to fight them."

"We have to decide," she quietly corrects. In my peripheral, I see Eric looking pointedly at me. "You mean we have to decide."

"Of course," I say. Isabel and Eric are both staring at me, and Bill is watching Sookie, who's staring at Eric, and the room is too quiet and too crowded. Sookie's heartbeat sounds very loud, and the room smells strongly of their love-making. Eric is right, as usual; her scent is unique and sweet-smelling, unlike any human I've smelled before.

"Is this your first trip to Dallas, Miss Stackhouse," I say to break the awkward silence.

"I came once before on a school trip," she says. "Mostly I'm a home-body."

I nod politely. "And Shreveport is your home?"

"Bon Temps," she corrects. "About an hour away."

"And what do you do there?" I ask.

"Sookie's a barmaid," Eric replies.

"Waitress," Bill quickly says, growling under his breath.

"Yes," Sookie says. "And apparently, I can't speak for myself."

Isabel stifles a laugh, and I smile at Sookie. I like her feistiness, and I can understand why Eric likes it too. It'll drive him crazy, of course, as Eric often drives me crazy, but I can see the appeal. She's very much like him – I can see the fierceness in her eyes, the impulsiveness, but also the playful sense of wonder and delight. And Bill, the man trapped in between, who seems so calm and measured, is a nice counter-balance for both Eric and Sookie. I smile to myself, knowing first-hand that such a relationship could work.

A loud knock on the door disrupts our chat, and Bill immediately rises. "Sheriff?" he asks. "Shall I see who it is?"

"Thank you," I say, rising. Isabel, Eric, and Sookie follow, and we're all standing when Nan Flanagan strides in with two aides, a female vampire wearing worn jeans and a male in a suit.

She glares at all of us before finally sitting in the chair before the fire. Once she sits, I sit, and then everyone else. I watch as Bill casually puts his arm on the back of the sofa, a protective position if needs be. Eric glares at Nan Flanagan in open defiance, but everyone else looks at the ceiling or the floor. The whispers of traffic from the street, the crackle of the fire, and Sookie's wildly beating heart are the only sounds for several long minutes.

"Do you have any fucking idea of the PR mess you've made?" Nan Flanagan finally asks. Sookie flinches. "And who has to fucking clean that shit up? Me. Not you – me. I should drain every one of you bastards."

I look down at my hands, and I can feel Eric's impatience and bubbling anger. Sookie keeps sneaking glances at him out of the corner of her eye, and any other night, I'd be curious what he did in her sleep to make her interest so obvious.

"Stan went to the church on his own," Eric says. "None of us knew anything about it."

"Oh really?" she incredulously replies. "Because everyone who's known Stan in the last three hundred years knew that he had a kink about slaughtering humans. But you? His nestmates, his Sheriff, had no clue?"

"And how were we supposed to know that this time he meant it?" Isabel retorts.

"Not my problem," Nan Flanagan says, looking directly at me. "Yours."

"Don't talk to him that way," Eric says, his voice low and dangerous.

"Don't talk to me that way," she says, smiling at him. "Let's get to the point: how did they manage to abduct you?"

I look at her for the first time since she entered the room. "They would've taken one of us sooner or later," I explain. "I offered myself." I can feel Eric's shock and hurt, and although it's too late, I wish I'd told him myself before this moment.

"Why?" Nan Flanagan asks, clearly disgusted.

"Why not?"

"They wanted you to meet the sun, and you were willing?" Her tone implies that she doesn't believe me. I can feel Eric's eyes boring into me, his blood willing me to turn around. Sookie's back to looking at him, and Bill's looking at her, and if I weren't afraid for all of them, it would almost be entertaining.

"What do you think?" I ask her.

"I think you're out of your mind," she quickly replies. "And then I hear about a traitor?"

Isabel stiffens next to me, and if it wouldn't tip off Nan Flanagan, I would offer Isabel some small comfort. Instead, I quickly answer before she has a chance to implicate herself. I need Isabel to remain in the AVL's good graces; she needs to take over, not someone else. "Irrelevant. Only a rumor. I'll take full responsibility."

"You bet you will," Nan Flanagan ruthlessly replies.

"You cold bitch," Eric quietly observes.

"Listen," she says. "This is a national vampire disaster, and nobody at the top has any sympathy for any of you." She sighs for dramatic effect. "Sheriff," she says to me. "You fucked up. You're fired."

"I agree," I quickly say before Isabel or Eric can object. "Of course. Isabel should take over; she had no part in my disgrace."

"Godric," Isabel says to me. "Fight back."

"What are you saying?" Eric accuses in an angry voice that's too loud in the small room. "She's…. She's a bureaucrat! You don't have to take shit from her."

At his outburst, Bill's head snaps to him, watching him intently. Sookie is staring too, and I know, whatever their difficulties, that both care deeply for my Child. Knowing that I'm not going to leave him alone, not even this night, is another unexpected and undeserved comfort.

"You want to lose your Area, Viking?" Nan Flanagan threatens.

"You don't have that kind of power," Eric calmly counters.

"Hey, I'm on TV." She smiles at him, and it's cold and dangerous. "Try me."

"I'm to blame," Isabel exclaims. "I should've contained Stan the second Godric went missing."

"Isabel," I warn, turning to her. She submissively bows her hand, and I silently thank her for her gracious service. "I remove myself from all positions of authority," I tell Nan Flanagan.

"Works for me," she crispy replies.

Sookie shuffles on the sofa as if she's going to stand, and Bill stops her. "Sookie," he whispers, which is pointless; it's not as if the rest of us can't hear him. "Sookie."

"I owe him," she whispers back. "Miss Flanagan," she says in a calm voice. "Godric rescued me from a really large rapist, who probably would've killed me too."

"That's nice," she sneers, not even looking at Sookie in the eyes. "Moving on…"

"No!" Sookie interrupts. Eric and Bill both stiffen, and I send out a small prayer that this ends quickly and without bloodshed. I know both men will kill for her if necessary, and while I'd gladly welcome the end of Nan Flanagan, I certainly don't want Eric or Bill to pay the price for it. "Listen," she insists. "And then he rescued humans in that church, plus a whole lot of vampires. You think it's a PR mess now? It would've been a hundred, no – a million, times worse. You should thank him."

Nan Flanagan bores into Sookie, who does not shrink back or look afraid, although her heart beats even more quickly. If she weren't with vampires, no one would suspect her fear. "For getting kidnapped?" Nan Flanagan spits out. "For attracting a suicide bomber? For piss-poor judgment? I think not."

Eric growls and rises. Isabel and Bill immediately step between him and Nan Flanagan, and Sookie leans back into the couch, her eyes wide.

"Eric," I quietly say. "It doesn't matter."

After an uncomfortable silence, everyone sits back down.

"Tell me about the bombing, please," Nan Flanagan finally says. "Every single detail."

"A boy walked into the lair," I begin. "I thought he was someone's human companion. He called for everyone's attention, introduced himself, and then opened his jacket, revealing the bombing device. Before anyone could act, he detonated it."

Nan Flanagan looks at me, and then looks at everyone else. "And that's it?"

I nod. "That is what happened."

"No one smelled the C4? No one smelled the silver?"

"It was a party, for fuck's sake," Eric explodes. "We weren't thinking we were under attack."

"Eric," I quietly say. "Please."

"Isabel, you're known to be an empath," Nan Flanagan says. "Is this true?"

"It is," Isabel replies.

"And you didn't sense anything?"

"Godric and I were not in the main room when he entered," Isabel explains. "We were… otherwise engaged."

"Doing what?"

"Having a private conversation," Isabel snaps. "When he called everyone's attention, we moved into the main room, and yes, I sensed a problem immediately, but as Godric already explained, there wasn't time to react."

Nan Flanagan stares all of us down in turn, even Sookie, who blushes and sinks back into the sofa. "What a fucking fiasco," she finally says. "You're lucky I don't call the Magister." I watch as Bill visibly shudders and puts his hand on Sookie's shoulder, more for his sake than hers. "Godric," she continues. "Come to my suite and fill out the forms."

"Soon," I say. "First I have something to say. I'm sorry." I can feel Eric's bubbling panic as he realizes my intentions, but I push past them and focus on the present. "I apologize for all the harm I've caused. For our lost ones, human and vampire… I will make amends, I swear."

"Take it easy," Nan Flanagan says as she stands. "It's just a few signatures." She pats my shoulder as she walks past and I taste the blood in my mouth as I bite my tongue at the insult. Nan Flanagan, who's young and without special power should know better than to touch me, but I say nothing and watch as she leaves with her aides, and everyone awkwardly stands.

Eric is upon me, hunched over so he can peer directly into my eyes. I smile at the memory of all the times I played his son or younger cousin for the sake of deceiving humans. "No," he says.

"Look in my heart…" I whisper.

"You have to listen to me," he insists.

"There's nothing to say," I gently tell him.

"There is."

I sigh. "On the roof." I nod to Isabel, and she and I walk towards the elevators.

"Isabel," I say once the doors are safely closed. "This is for you." I pass her the sealed envelope that has instructions to the safe-room, as well as account numbers for the other half of my vast holdings.

"Godric," she says, turning to me. "You can't do this. Listen to me."

"Isabel," I sigh.

"Listen to Eric, then," she says. "Please."

"I hope you never get to the point where you understand," I say. The elevator quietly dings as it opens at Nan Flanagan's floor. We step out, and Isabel stops me with her hand on my arm.

"Godric. Please."

"You'll be a good Sheriff, Isabel." Her eyes immediately begin to tear. "I'm honored to have known you, and to have counted you as one of my friends. I couldn't have asked for better companionship." I gently shrug off her hand and continue to Nan Flanagan's room. I knock on the door, and it's opened immediately by the aide in the suit.

Without a word, I walk over to the conference table, where Nan Flanagan has all the requisite forms prepared and laid out. My remaining Sheriff was never an option. I quickly sign and lay the pen back on the table.

"No hard feelings?" Nan Flanagan says, which implies she has any feelings at all.

I smile. "No," I say.

"Where's Isabel? I need to speak with her."

"She's coming in a moment," I say. I bow politely and leave. Isabel is standing outside the door, but I've said what I want to say. She senses that and lets me pass without comment. Instead of the elevator, I open the fire-door to the stairwell and flash up to the roof, where Eric is pacing as he waits for me.

"Godric," he says, rushing to me.

"Eric." I stand on the roof facing east, my back to my Child who's fluctuating wildly between fear and anger and hurt. The sky is still dark, but I can see the faintest of lightening beginning, much too subtle for human eyes to detect, and I smile at the horizon.

I hear footsteps on the stairs and a heartbeat, and I'm not surprised when Sookie stands near the steps, silently looking at me and Eric. I wonder if she's come for me or for him. Maybe a little of both…

"Two thousand years is enough," I say, to both myself and to Eric.

"I cannot accept this," he spits out. "It's insanity."

"Our existence in insanity," I say, turning to face him. "We don't belong here."

"But we are here!" he yells.

"It's not right," I say. "We're not right." No one should live this long.

"You taught me there is no right or wrong, only survival or death."

I sigh. "I told a lie, as it turns out."

He clenches his fists and walks towards me. "I will keep you alive by force," he threatens.

I smile. "Even if you could," I say. "Why would you be so cruel?"

Eric begins to cry, the sobs shaking his body. "Godric, gör inte det."

"Finns århundraden av tro och kärlek mellan oss," I say, pleading with him to understand.

Eric weeps even harder. "Snälla. Snälla." He drops to his knees, his head bowed as if in prayer, and it's all I can do to resist him. I can't bear my Child's grief, and the smell of his blood-tears is heavy in my nose, and I resist the urge to lick them because there can be no redemption without pain. Seeing him suffer, knowing that I am the cause, is far worse than any physical pain I have ever endured or will endure in a few minutes' time. My Eric. My Child. My beloved.

"Snälla, Godric," he pleas.

"Far. Bror. Son," I say, repeating the words I spoke to him when he was still human, just before I turned him. Eric, my one decision I don't regret, not even for a moment, in a very long lifetime. "Let me go."

Eric looks up at me, the blood tears staining his beautiful face. He swallows and looks suddenly calm and resolved. "I won't let you die alone," he finally vows.

"Yes you will," I quickly answer. My words spark a fresh onslaught of tears, and I put my hand on the back of Eric's neck. "As your Maker," I say, both of us knowing that Eric's been released for centuries and is under no compulsion to obey. "I command you."

The sky is beginning to lighten dangerously when he slowly rises to his full height. He looks at me one last time, and without a word, walks towards the stairs. It's Sookie who stops him, her hand lost in his as she soothes him.

"I'll stay with him," she promises Eric. "As long as it takes." Eric doesn't respond, but he does leave the roof without looking back, and Sookie walks towards me in her little red and white checkered dress, like a child in a fairy-tale, so innocent and out of place among creatures of the night.

"It won't take long," I tell her. "Not at my age."

"You know," she says. "It wasn't very smart. The Fellowship of the Sun part?"

"I know," I reply, still facing the coming dawn. "I thought it might fix everything somehow, but I don't think like a vampire anymore." I turn and face her. "Do you believe in God?"

"Yes," she immediately replies with certainty and conviction.

"If you're right, how will he punish me?"

Sookie shakes her head and smiles gently at me. "God doesn't punish; God forgives."

I marvel at the modern humans, their lives so filled with softness and luxury. Even their Gods are gentle. But I know I need this suffering. Even if this version of God doesn't require it, I do.

"I don't deserve it," I confess. "But I hope for it."

"We all do."

"Will you care for him?" She looks confused. "Eric?"

"I'm not sure," she answers. "You know how he is."

I smile. "I can take the blame for that, too."

"Maybe not?" she says. "Eric's pretty much himself." I nod, knowing that she understands Eric more than either of them realizes, and I'm glad he's bonded with her, no matter the consequences for how he did it. Regardless of her anger or his stubbornness, eventually, I have ultimate faith in my Child and his choice of human who stands before me, unflinchingly loyal to the end.

I feel the sun, and I look once more to the east, knowing that the end is so very near.

"Are you very afraid?" she finally asks.

"No," I say. I smile as I feel the weight of two thousand years lift from my shoulders. "No. I'm full of joy."

"But the pain…" she says.

"I want to burn," I try to explain that I need to atone somehow for my sins.

"Well, I'm afraid for you." At that, Sookie begins to cry, her tears sweet and fragrant in the early morning light.

I feel the rays on my skin, and I can smell my flesh beginning to smolder, and I almost wish I had one more day with this human. "A human with me at the end," I say. She closes her eyes, and the tears spill down her cheeks. "And human tears. Two thousand years, and I can still be surprised. In this, I see God."

I smile once more at Sookie, for yet another unexpected and undeserved final gift, and then I motion her away. I take off my shirt and walk to the edge of the roof, getting as close to the sun as I can. I step to the horizon I've avoided for two millennia, and I force myself to open my eyes against the glaring light and look at the beauty that is my final death.

"Goodbye, Godric," Sookie whispers.

I hold out my arms and close my eyes. I focus every fiber of my being on the burn. I don't hide from it or shy away; I revel in it. I allow it to wash over me, and I can feel the blue-flames erupt from my core. They cast a glow over my vision, and with a final sigh, there is no more pain.

I watch as Sookie stands alone on the roof, and she leans over to rest her palm against the concrete where I last stood. And then she stands, and she quietly walks back downstairs to her room. Bill is in bed, forcing himself awake for her. To comfort her before he rests. But Sookie hesitates outside Eric's door, her ear pressed against the wood. He is weeping inside, and he doesn't hear her tap her fingers lightly on the door. She waits, and she taps again before slipping into her own room across the hall. Eric looks up, as if he senses something, and I know that it's not too late, not for any of them.

There is nothing but light that does not burn, and I know I need to fly one last time.

~ The End, which is really to say, The Beginning

Translations:

Godric, gör inte det. = Godric, don't do it.

Finns århundraden av tro och kärlek mellan oss. = There are centuries of faith and love between us.

Snälla. Snälla. Snälla, Godric. = Please. Please. Please, Godric.

Far. Bror. Son. = Father. Brother. Son.


End file.
